


Long Nights

by madrastic



Category: Original Work, Sacrifice (Webnovel)
Genre: Boats and Ships, Denial of Feelings, First Kiss, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, M/M, Master/Servant, Master/Slave, Mutual Pining, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25270477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madrastic/pseuds/madrastic
Summary: For the first time in a while, Antony finds himself sleepless, mind turbulent and day peaceful. And then, his thoughts turn to his offering.
Relationships: Antony (Sacrifice)/Hanyu (Sacrifice)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	Long Nights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sekiraku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sekiraku/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Sacrifice](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21340168) by [Sekiraku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sekiraku/pseuds/Sekiraku). 



> these pining fools, amazing
> 
> thanks seki for a great read!!

Sleep eluded Antony. Stubbornly and constantly, sleep danced just out of his reach, hiding behind curtains and lingering in the pages of books, unwilling to be teased and taunted and pleaded out of its hiding space. No, stupid, insubordinate sleep mocked him, took all his strength and age and power and threw it back into Antony’s face, laughing all the while.

It was almost embarrassing, at this point in the night. Despite laying on his back, body as relaxed as it could get as he watched the darkness behind his eyelids, Antony remained unfortunately, irrevocably awake. It had gone from mildly annoying to frustrating—he was the captain of his ship, why was his body so insolent tonight? All these centuries, curse and all, and he was still subject to a faulty circadian rhythm.

H anyu had no such issue, that had been clear enough from day one. His snores shook the ship more than any wave possibly could. Really, Antony had no idea how one man could produce such a ruckus—while asleep, no less. He could make the furniture rattle in its boltings and it was a true miracle that the books on the shelves hadn’t been shaken free from their confines, the straps holding them in place degraded with such a loud, forceful sound.

Rolling over did nothing. In fact, it only served to render Antony more awake. True, he could get up without much issue, it wasn’t as if he needed to sleep for much anyway, but sleep would still become necessary later. Better to try and get a wink of shut eye now, lest he be groggy and tired when he was undoubtedly called for. Everything always went wrong at the most inopportune times, that was a fundamental law of the universe, and Antony had not gotten into the habit of being unprepared.

He  _ could _ nudge Hanyu, give the offering a light kick to silence those snores, if only for a moment. Antony could trust himself to control his strength enough not to hurt his attendant. Even still, Antony felt reluctance building up in his stomach. Those guileless eyes would just blink open, bleary from sleep and confused with wakefulness, staring at him with such innocence and betrayal that everything in Antony’s mind would urge him to hide away from that open, honest stare. Really, that gaze burned worse than the sun, given Hanyu wouldn’t remember it come morning.

With a sigh, the vampire contented himself with begrudging wakefulness. There was little he could  _ actually _ do to alleviate this. Rolling over once more to the side of the bed, Antony let his eyes trace over his attendant, unwilling to get up from the comfort of his sheets. Things could wait, if only for a moment. It wasn’t as if he were meant to be awake, so who would bear witness to his laziness?

Hanyu was attractive. That much was plain to see. Even in sleep (or  _ especially _ in sleep), he had a certain way about him. It was only more clear when he wasn’t trying to be seductive or tempting. In sleep, his limbs were loose and body relaxed, resting peacefully. Pink lips were ever so slightly parted, breathing slow and steady, as if he were perfectly safe here, just inches from Antony. It was addictive, the way his offering trusted him so implicitly, loved him so completely. Addictive and dangerous, judging from the way guilt sprang forth from Antony’s chest.

One day, those loving eyes were going to look at him with horror and revulsion, those warm hands weren’t going to plead so openly for his affection. Hanyu was going to discover the reality of Antony, the harshness that encompassed his heart, the faults that must have been so clear to others, the carelessness with which Antony hurt others. Hanyu would beg to leave him. That was going to hurt worse than anything, the betrayal in the man’s eyes as he wished for another master, any other master.

Ignorant to Antony’s thoughts, the ship dipped and rose with the swell of the waves as it always had, its motion so familiar as to be overlooked. Antony had been on this ship so many years that dry, steady ground felt foreign. It had taken time to learn not to stumble when they went ashore, body used to the perpetual lurching of the ocean. Would Hanyu grow accustomed to it in the same way? Would he miss land as time wore on, his home and his friends?

That was no way for Antony to think. Here he was, reminiscing on his offering’s thoughts. Really, why should he? The boy was lucky to have even been chosen by him, that he wasn’t sent to the barracks to be shared by the rest of the ship. He had been given the gift of his master’s rooms, the status of being under his protection. He should be thankful, there was no need for him to miss things… that he… hadn’t spoken about missing… in the slightest…

Antony wasn’t projecting.

With a sigh, he sat up, the covers falling around his waist. His sleep clothes were all rumpled from his tossing and turning; the laundry would abhor getting the wrinkles out. It was no way for a captain to appear, bedraggled and sleepless, a manifestation of his own weakness. There was only so much Antony could do about that, though, and it wasn’t that anyone would notice if he simply stayed in his quarters for the day. It was expected, after all, and there was a veritable cornucopia of things he could occupy himself with.

Throwing aside the blanket with a bored hand, Antony ran his fingers over the soft fabric. There really wasn’t much that needed his attention at the moment. Millennia had made the ship run smoothly, apart from the occasional fight, and most vampires would be in their cabins, evading the daylight. There wouldn’t be a letter from his siblings, it had been too soon to expect a response from either. Well, he could always scrounge up something to do, even if it was rereading a book he had gone through thousands of times already.

As he draped his feet over the bed, he carded his hands through his hair, messing it up yet more. What did it matter, no one was going to be seeing it. The sun was out, and it would be a shame to wake Hanyu up by getting dressed. Antony wasn’t hungry, either, so the boy would just be underfoot if he was woken, all curious questions and friendly chattering. At least his lack of training was endearing, the thought bounced around his head as he took his first strides, rubbing frustration out of his eyes.

Without warning, the floor underfoot had far more give than it should have. Heart dropping into his stomach, Antony felt as if he were about to vomit. Evidently, his body had either not received or ignored the message that he was unable to do such, alerting him to the issue regardless. For the first time in his long, long life, Antony wished he could swear to himself, if only to ameliorate some of the blame, to absolve himself of some guilt.

A sharp yelp sounded as Antony carefully lifted his foot. Immediately, the hand was snatched away, fingers cradled against a strong chest, brown eyes wide. Even in the dark, Antony could see the first pricklings of tears, the boy shocked out of his slumber with sudden pain. It… hurt. It hurt Antony to see him like this, to see Hanyu clutching his hand to his chest and staring up at him, confusion and fear in those dark eyes as he shook off the remnants of sleep.

“Hanyu—I—” An apology, Antony was apologizing to his offering.

The very thought silenced him, the ridiculousness of it all. Marcus would never let him live this down if he found out. Who was he? Theodora? Had Antony really been brought low enough, gotten attached enough, to immediately apologize for something offerings were trained to withstand?

“D-did I do something wrong, my lord?” Hanyu’s voice, cracked and weepy, broke through Antony’s head.

A wave of fresh guilt washed over him. “No, Hanyu, I’m sorry. I was not looking where I was going, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

That seemed to ease the boy somewhat, betrayal slowly ebbing out of his face. It was a painful reminder, how freely Hanyu expected his master to punish him without cause. Antony thought he had been quite clear about that, about how Hanyu shouldn’t expect a blow to come from him, but year upon year of training took a considerable amount of time to unlearn.

Even still, the boy didn’t unfurl his body, eyes stuttering respectfully down to Antony’s feet like he’d been taught. For the first time in his life, Hanyu was fulfilling exactly what he had been instructed to do. His teachers would be proud if they could see him now, not begging or arguing, not being daring or excitable, just the picture of submission. It was so unlike him, his wide, friendly grin evaporating like fog in the sun.

Antony’s stomach turned as he knelt, motions slow and telegraphed. Being senselessly rough would only make things incalculably worse. Calmly, gently, he inched forward, doing his very best to portray patience. Anything else would distress Hanyu more, if the episode with the chest was anything to go by. The poor thing didn’t react well to anger, not that Antony had anything to be angry at him with. This was his fault, this was what he got for not looking where he stepped.

“Hanyu, may I please see?” If Antony had broken anything… that was a chilling thought.

A sniffle turned into a nod as the boy slowly stuck his hand out. Holding Hanyu by the wrist, Antony handled him like he was made of glass lattice. His offering’s skin was so warm to the touch, so unlike Antony’s own. That heat came with fragility, though. Things broke quite quickly when people weren’t careful.

The tears had stopped for the most part, distress stemming more from fear than true pain. “Is there something wrong?”

It would have broken Antony’s heart to hear that tentative voice, had he still had one. Hanyu was worried, not about himself, no, about how Antony felt, about what Antony was thinking. The boy couldn’t let go of the thought that he was meant to please his master, hang on his every word and whim. That was what he had been taught to do, the promise he had been groomed to fulfill.

Turning his attention back to Hanyu’s hand, Antony tried to focus his spinning thoughts. His skin was bruised, that was clear enough to see, but—thankfully—all of the bones and ligaments had remained both whole and in place. That was a relief, that any damage was only temporary. Had Antony still needed to breathe, there was no doubt he would have let out the breath he’d been holding.

“No, nothing at all.” He rubbed what he hoped were soothing circles into Hanyu’s palm, voice calm and easy. “Just a bit of bruising. I could call for Julia, if you’d like a more professional opinion.” Antony would never live down calling for the ship doctor just because he stepped on his attendant.

“I—I think I’m alright.” The lingering hesitancy in Hanyu’s words hung in the air between them.

With a slight awkwardness, Antony shifted closer to his attendant. He could feel the life coming off of Hanyu’s skin, tempting and enticing. It was remarkable, how, even completely naked, Hanyu still looked so kind and harmless. The pain in his hand seemed to die down slightly, that, or he was distracted with his master suddenly so close, his attention so wholly fixed on him. Antony had to wince at how much he seemed to lavish Hanyu in comparison to his former offerings. The past was in the past, though the sentiment didn’t heal old wounds.

He was still holding Hanyu’s hand, the thought came to him as wide brown eyes flickered from his silver gaze to sore fingers and back. Right. Yes. He should let go and let Hanyu go back to sleep as best he could. That would be best, really. Antony should simply let go of that soft, warm skin and let Hanyu roll over. His attendant needed his rest.

“Lord Antony…?” There was an expectation in Hanyu’s tone.

“Yes, Hanyu?” It was a true feat of will that there wasn’t even a  _ hint _ of a waver in those words.

Perfect teeth chewed lightly on a perfect lip. Did Hanyu know how tempting he was like this? How tempting he was when he didn’t bother to try? “Is everything alright?”

“Of course, Hanyu. Why would you ask?”

That gaze traced Antony’s jaw, slipping down. “I don’t mean to presume, but you seem a little out of it.”

Accurate. Annoyingly, regretfully accurate. Hanyu had likely heard him, tossing and turning like a ship in a storm for the better part of the night, unable to get comfortable, unable to slow his thoughts down. There were only so many things that could mean and Hanyu wasn’t a complete fool. The temple had at the very least  _ tried _ to train him to anticipate his master’s moods. Not all of those lessons had fallen on deaf ears.

“I am.” The confession came with a sigh, Antony easing into a more comfortable position on the floor. How Hanyu tolerated this without complaint, he didn’t know. The wood was digging into his body in the most uncomfortable manner. “I didn’t mean to hurt you—or wake you, for that matter. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. Can I help?” Fresh from sleep and Hanyu was already trying to make himself useful.

Not while he was naked, no. “There isn’t much you can do, just good, old-fashioned sleeplessness.”

That wasn’t a good enough answer for Hanyu, it seemed. Twisting his hand to graze his fingers against Antony’s wrist, the attendant’s breath hitched in his chest from his own boldness, tremors caused by a mixture of nervousness and bravery. Despite himself, Antony let it happen, let Hanyu run his fingers over his own, touch as light as a feather.

“I can think of something.” Implications ran amok in his tone, far less overt than in the very beginning. Hanyu was never one for subtlety, though.

Clearing his throat, Antony felt himself pull back slightly. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“I can do other things.” The desperation to be needed, to please Antony was plain as day.

Like day, it was to be avoided. “I wouldn’t want you to.”

Thoughts swirled around Hanyu’s head, nonetheless. Antony swore he could see them, buzzing around and around as his attendant tried to figure out the best possible solution. Sighing, Antony let himself relax somewhat. If Hanyu could jump through all these mental hoops, then he clearly wasn’t hurt too badly.

“What would  _ you _ —not I, you—want to do, Hanyu?”

“I-I—” His cheeks flushed a bit as he regained some composure, steeling his nerves. “I would like to kiss you, my lord.”

A kiss. Antony could do that; it would take less than a second and it wouldn’t harm any—

How could he even  _ consider _ something like that? Six centuries, all washed down the drain because an offering batted his eyes and had a pretty smile. Really, this was getting ridiculous, how attached Antony was. He shouldn’t even be  _ humoring _ Hanyu by allowing such disobedience, it would only spell trouble later on. If Marcus could see him now… the man would likely laugh him out of house and home, accusing Antony (rightfully so) of growing soft.

Worse, he would prove it. In front of the ship, no less.

“Only once.” Antony heard himself saying. “And you will tell no one of it. Not one soul.”

Hanyu’s voice was uncharacteristically solemn. “Not one soul, yes my lord.”

It was a marvel how quickly Antony believed him. The boy didn’t lie, in fact, he seemed incapable of it at times. Hanyu was nothing less than honest to a fault, to the point of oversharing. His friends might have agreed, had they known all he had told his master about them. It… wasn’t nearly as annoying as Antony had initially thought it to be. In times like this, it was almost a blessing. A very disguised blessing, but a blessing, nonetheless.

His thoughts abandoned him when his attendant leaned in, motions clear and slow. There were no sharp movements, more than enough room for Antony to change his mind. What a foolish thought, Antony knew himself enough to know he didn’t bite off more than he could chew. Usually. A very naked, very confident Hanyu who played at his nerves like fiddles evidently toed that line. For the first time, Antony was quite glad that he was unable to blush, his body unable to betray his feelings.

Gentle enough that he might have imagined it, Hanyu pressed his lips to his. Had his heart still beat in his chest, it would have almost certainly stopped. This would have been what killed Antony. It was unexpected, despite Hanyu’s projected motions, despite his obvious intention, how his very being seemed to encompass Antony, the smell of his soaps far stronger now that he was so close, the heat of his form like the sun.

No, Hanyu was better than the sun by leaps and bounds. Where the sun charred and burned, Hanyu was constant in his gentleness, warmth just cool enough to be tolerable, even to something as weak as Antony.

His lips were soft. The thought came, unbidden, to the forefront of Antony’s mind. His lips were very soft. It was so different than what he was used to, the harsh, almost bruising kisses of his lover. Hanyu kissed him like he was afraid of hurting him, impossible as that was. He was just so ridiculous and daring and… and… and horribly, wonderfully endearing. Despite his attendant’s best efforts, knowledge that Antony had done nothing to deserve this burned in his mind. This was his reward for hurting him.

All too soon, Hanyu was pulling back, eyes round with horror at his boldness. Antony could see apologies already on his tongue, a plea for his life, for his master’s forgiveness. The trust between them was a tentative thing, painfully strung out, plucked with every passing day. Antony could reassure Hanyu all he wanted, but there would always be a lingering doubt in the attendant’s mind, trained into him from childhood.

“I—”

“Thank you.” Antony winced inwardly at his interruption. Splitting his jaw in an exaggerated yawn, he tried for a smile. “Would you look at that, it did help after all.”

Hanyu let out a slightly watery chuckle. “I-I am happy to be of service.”

Not the ideal response, but Antony could live with that. Drawing Hanyu’s hand up to his mouth, Antony pressed a simple, chaste kiss to the boy’s knuckles. Even in the dark, his attendant’s blush was plain to see, pink spreading across cheeks and over ears like the hand of a god long forgotten. Centuries ago, Antony would have called him pretty enough to eat, though the sentiment had different connotations now.

“I should let you rest. It wouldn’t do for you to be tired.”

There was a surprised blink at his words. “I don’t mind being awake if you need me to be useful, A-Antony.”

“You can be useful by getting some rest.” Despite his best efforts, a fondness crept into his tone. “I just have to fulfill some obligations, but I’ll be back.”

Confusion, but acceptance. “Alright…”

As Antony stood again, Hanyu laid back down, getting comfortable in his bedding. He stepped into the other room on silent feet, Hanyu drawing the blankets up around him, rustling around to find a better spot. It wouldn’t do to think about how cute that was. Quietly, Antony shut the door and eased into his chair, sighing under his breath.

Now came another problem. All of this wakeful energy, thoughts fluttering around his head like moths to a flame, and there was nothing Antony could do about it. There was hardly anything in his quarters to adequately distract him from the afterimage of his offering’s lips on his, his offering’s touch, his offering. His sister would laugh him off his ship for getting attached, Marcus would do away with pretense and throw him. Day after day, he was growing more and more like Theodora.

Fuck.


End file.
